In last Sunday’s Gospel for the Fifth Sunday of Lent, we were given one of the most moving and deeply human scenes in all of Scripture: Jesus standing before the tomb of His friend Lazarus and weeping.
“Jesus wept.” These two simple words carry a depth that can pierce even the hardest of hearts. In that moment, we saw both the divinity and the humanity of Christ. He feels. He grieves. He suffers.
We often forget this truth. We forget that Jesus hungered in the desert, thirsted on the cross, grew weary along the road to Samaria, and trembled in sorrow at Gethsemane. Our Lord fully entered the human condition. This is precisely why the Gospel continues to speak so powerfully to us.
When we remember that Jesus wept, we begin to understand that He understands us. He knows our fears, our losses, our anxieties, and our exhaustion. He sees the silent tears we shed when no one is watching. From this realization, hope begins to grow.
We are not alone. God is not distant or indifferent. He enters into our suffering and shares it. His tears reveal His closeness. The Gospel does not end in sorrow. It leads us toward life.
When Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead for four days. The body had begun to decay. The situation was beyond any human solution. In many ways, this reflected the condition of our world today.
We hear of wars driven by power and pride. Though distant, their effects reach our homes through rising prices and deepening poverty. We witness corruption and dishonesty, where truth is compromised and justice delayed. Families are wounded, and many of the young grow up confused and searching for direction. Calamities strike without warning, destroying homes, livelihoods, and dreams.
Like Martha, we cry out, “Lord, if you had been here, this would not have happened.” This cry rises from hearts that believe, yet struggle to understand. The Gospel offered a surprising response. Jesus did not come immediately. He remained where He was. This delay was not indifference. At times, God allows us to experience the depth of darkness so that His glory may be revealed more clearly. He is never late. He comes at the moment when His love can be most fully seen.
When Jesus finally arrived, He stood before the tomb and wept. His tears revealed a God who shares in human suffering. He grieves with the hungry child, the struggling parent, the victims of injustice, and the families broken by loss. His sorrow is not passive. It is a love that refuses to abandon. He then approached the tomb and gave a command: “Take away the stone.” Before new life can be revealed, there must be openness. Before resurrection, there must be conversion.
What are the stones that cover our lives and our world? Greed that values profit over people. Pride that chooses conflict over peace. Corruption that deprives the poor. Indifference that ignores suffering. Sin that hardens the heart. Many desire God to change the world, yet resist the call to personal conversion. We pray for peace while holding on to anger. We ask for justice yet tolerate dishonesty. We long for renewal but hesitate to change.
Still, the command remains: “Take away the stone.” When the stone is removed, Jesus calls out, “Lazarus, come out!” This call extends beyond the tomb of Lazarus. It reaches every wounded heart and every broken situation. It is an invitation to step out of darkness, despair, and sin, and to walk into the light of new life. Lazarus came out, alive yet still bound. Jesus then gave another command: “Untie him and let him go.”
This becomes our mission. We are called not only to receive life but to help restore it in others. Through generosity, we help lift those trapped in poverty. Through hope, we strengthen those weighed down by despair. Through truth, we guide those lost in confusion. Through love, we accompany those who feel alone. In this way, we become instruments of resurrection in the lives of others.
There is a final truth that gives this Gospel its deepest meaning. The raising of Lazarus set in motion the events that led to the death of Jesus. He gave life, knowing it would cost Him His own. Like a grain of wheat that falls to the ground and dies, He offered Himself so that we may live. This is the heart of our faith: a God who shares our sorrow, walks with us in our struggles, dies for us, and raises us to new life.
My dear brothers and sisters, the world may often resemble a tomb, yet no tomb is ever final in the presence of Christ. War does not have the last word. Poverty does not have the last word. Suffering and even death do not have the last word. Christ proclaims, “I am the resurrection and the life.” After every storm, the sun rises again. After every trial, light returns. Hope endures, not because the world is perfect, but because God’s love never fails.
Today, Jesus asks each one of us, “Do you believe this?” Do we believe that love is stronger than hatred, that hope is stronger than despair, that God can bring life even from death? If the answer is yes, there is no reason to fear. Even when the tomb seems sealed and the darkness overwhelming, Christ stands before it and calls each of us by name: “Come out.”